Jellicle Week March 2011
by JellicleJuggalo
Summary: Yes, I'm trying to participate in Bradwaykhaos' Jellicle Week challenge. Contains a preview to Beacon, which is one of my pet projects. LATE CHAPTER IS LATE FML. R&R Plz!
1. Home Alone

For Broadwaykhaos' Jellicle Week March 2011, sorry it's a day late, to be fair, I wrote it yesterday, I just couldn't type it up till today :(

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Tom and Samantha were a happily married couple. They owned a small house in a quiet little place called Victoria Grove, where they lived comfortably with their two cats, Max and Royalty. Or, as you may know them, Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Now, you of course know what these two got up two on Friday nights when Tom and Sam went out to dinner, but they didn't know yet. So don't tell them.

On one such Friday night, as per usual, the happy couple left, saying goodbye to the calico twins as they left. Sort of like this:

"Goodbye Maxie-waxie-faxie! Goodbye princess Royalty Shmookums! We'll miss you! Don't worry though, we'll be back in an hour. See you again soon!"

The twins replied with the listless yet regal nonchalance that is typical of larger cats, which they were not. But as soon as the door closed, Mungojerrie sprung into action, leaping to the floor to dash for his goodie bag. However, when his sister tried to follow suit, she lost balance, plummeted into a front roll, and landed on her face before sneezing loudly.

"Aw gash, yew okay sis?" Mungojerrie asked, visibly worried.

"Yeh, foine, jes' peachy. Whyd'ya ask?" she replied before vomiting on the hardwood floor.

"Yew shore y'can make it fer t'noight's raid?"

"Of coase not, y'dewfus."

"Do ya want me ta stay back wit'cha?"

"No, no, don' let me holdja back."

"Awroight, if y'insist!"

And on that note, Mungojerrie happily scurried out the door, leaving poor Rumpleteazer home alone.

"Well, oi guess if oi can't wreak 'avoc outside, oi moight's well wreak 'avoc INside!"

She started with the usual routine of looting the jewelry box, bagging what she liked best, and leaving the rest strewn across the floor. She then went on to disheveling the bed as best as she could, breaking plates, stealing forks, and in general making a grand mess. Once she was satisfied with the chaos she'd created, she stashed her goodie bag in it's usual hiding spot (right, like I'm telling YOU where it is), laid down underneath her cat-bed (which was turned upside-down, of course), and patiently awaited the return of her brother and owners.

When Tom and Samantha returned home, they were shocked to find their apartment in a state of complete disarray. Everything was broken, damaged, or simply gone. "Oh God" Tom muttered, "how could this have happened? We were only gone an hour!"

"Oh my God, honey, do you know what I think?" said Samantha.

"No, what?" replied Tom.

"I think this must be the work of those awful cat-burglars who've been going around town!"

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A/N: Well, I thought it was funny.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Major human elements. Actually, they're basically human all the way in this.

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It was very dark and cloudy. I shouldn't have been walking that late at night. Especially not alone, especially not in that end of town. But something compelled me to. I just need to get away sometimes, you know? To think.

Being psychic,I know when something bad is about to happen. So it came as no surprise to me when, out of seemingly nowhere, a group of three large cats surrounded me. They were all wearing very dirty clothes, which looked like they hadn't been washed since who knows when. All of them were wearing red.

Once hey had me surrounded, the largest, who was unusually fat for a street cat, started the questioning. "Wha'ssa pretty lil' gal like yerself doin' out this late?"

"Well, I was just, ah, walking. I needed to think."

"Don'cha know these're bad parts ta be thinkin' all by yerself?" he said it like a question, but something about the way he said it told me that he didn't mean for me to answer. He had my back against a wall, and was close enough that I could smell his breath. It smelled like garbage. "And yer wearin' enemy colours too. You can get pretty badly hurt wearin' those colours round 'ere. Maybe you oughtta, you know, take that shirt off." the other two snickered, and one of them reached into his pocket.

Suddenly, right as I thought I was done for, a shot rang out, and I heard a familiar voice shout "Oi! Wot tha fock d'you rats thenk yer doin'?" It was Mungojerrie, with a pistol drawn.

"What the fuck's it to ya, Mungo?" said one of the skinnier cats. "We's jes' tryn'a get a piece o' tail!"

"That's me fockin' gullfrend, you piece of shit!"

At this, they stepped back. "Whoah, sorry bro, we din't mean nothin' by it, I swear!" said the larger cat.

"Yeh, loike bloody fockin'ell ya din't. Get tha fuck outta my soight, before I fuckin' paint the walls wit'cha!"

They must've believed him, because they scattered like rats.

I started cowering, but as he approached me, his tone softened. "I'ssokay, I won't hurt you." he sat down next to me, and pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket. He lit it, then pulled another out.

"Smoke?"

"No, thank you, I don't."

"Suit yerself." he said, putting it back, then lighting his own. "You arroight?"

"Yes, thank you, that was very...brave of you."

"Meh, oi was jes' doin' the roight thing."

"Is there any way I could thank you? I mean, other than..."

He chuckled a bit, then said "Naw, oi wouldn't ask ye t'do that. Oi moight be a bit rough, but oi know how to treat a lady. Not loike them scumbags." As he was speaking, raindrops started to fall on us. He looked up, and then back down at his cigarette, which was slowly dying of the rain.

"Well that seems like a bit of a waste." I said, trying to lighten things up.

"Well, as long as you're with me, oi'll be roight's rain." he said, chuckling at his own pun. "Hey, d'you need somebody ta walk yez back t'the yard?"

"Sure." I said, as he helped me up. Somehow, I felt like everything would be alright.

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A/N: This is a scene from one of my upcoming stories, told from an alternate perspective. hope you enjoyed it.


	3. Bottle of Flowers

A/N: I decided to copy rawrrkitty and just continue the story from where it left off. I might have to come up with a new one for the other chapters though. :/ Also, since Cori and Tanto speak telepathically, when they aren't speaking out loud, I'll use asterisks instead of quotation marks.

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That night, I thought about what had happened. Did Mungojerrie really like me? Did I like him? I mean, sure, he can be a sweet guy, and he's definitely gained some muscle tone lately…I could see his abs through his shirt…drool…Okay, focus Tantomile, Focus!

But he's also got a really aggressive side. What if one day he lashed out at me like he lashed out at those thugs? What's worse, they seemed to know him, maybe even respect him. Would I want to be associated with those kinds of people? And he's even got a gun! Then there's all the late-night burglary he does with his sister…What if one night he never came back?

But I really don't wanna break his heart, and he definitely has a really nice heart…

*What's wrong, Tantomile?* It was my brother. *I feel like something's bothering you.*

*It's nothing Cori, just leave it.* Though telepathic speech and mid-reading had their perks, it really messes with a person having two people in their mind.

*Listen, either you like Mungojerrie, or you don't. I can't really tell most of the details, since you're blocking me out, but if you don't feel safe around him, you really shouldn't be around him. And if he tried to mess with you, I could take him out for you.*

*It's kind of you to offer, but he has a gun, so that might be a bad idea. And I think he might be connected to the hidden paw. I don't want you to get hurt. And it's not him that makes me feel unsafe, it's just his friends…If he was holding me with his perfect biceps…*

*You know what? If you really wanted me out of your head that badly, you could've just said so.* That was the last I heard of him. Note to self: Have sexual fantasies whenever Cori refuses to get out of my head.

I decided I'd sleep it out, and decide what I thought the next day.

The next day, I was feeling kind of groggy. I tried eating breakfast, but I still wasn't quite awake, so I decided I'd go outside and get some fresh air. As I stepped outside, however, I found something somewhat unexpected.

It was what looked to be an empty liquor bottle, with the label peeled off, and "Fer Tantomile" written on it in messy handwriting. Its contents had been replaced with water and a small bouquet of wild flowers. I picked it up, and found a note underneath it. The note read:

deer Tantomile,

its me mungojerri. i wuz jes thinkin abowt lass nite, an i think im in luv wiv you. wil you go to tha jellicle ball wid me? luv mungojerry.

At first, I noticed that it looked like he'd emptied the bottle's former contents prior to writing the note, his 'e's were all backwards, and he spelled his name two different ways. Plus, couldn't he find a slightly nicer receptacle than an empty bottle? Then I thought about it a bit more, and realized that even though he seemed foreign to the concepts of spelling and capitalization, he'd spelled my name right twice, and capitalized it both times. And that he probably picked the flowers by hand. *He really cares about me* I thought. I then saw him walking towards me, and as soon as he was within earshot, I called out to him "Thank you for the flowers! And yes I will!"

"Rilly?" he said, sounding genuinely surprised. "No joke?"

"No joke."

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A/N: I'm getting closer to the appropriate length now, yaay! Also, the reason I'm writing as Tanto is because Beacon is supposed to be from Mungo's perspective, and I don't wanna get in trouble for submitting the same thing twice. :(


	4. Coloured Glass Windows

From the outside, the structure is tall, looming, and menacing. It is made of a uniformly bland gray stone, and is decorated with grotesque statues, posed as if they were prepared to fly from their high perches atop the turrets and feast upon the flesh of those unfortunate enough to have found themselves outside this lifeless, hostile structure. Even the windows of coloured glass seem very dark, jagged and imposing.

But Bill tells me things are different inside. Bill says inside it is warm, even warmer than the shelters where we normally sleep. He says the inside is covered in magnificent paintings, and that the dark, looming windows shine a brilliant, colourful light on the inside, and he wishes he could show me.

But they don't allow cats inside, so I am left outside, in the cold, every Sunday.

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A/N: Bill is homeless, in case you didn't figure that out. If you think you know what I'm talking about (metaphorically), feel free to review. I'll tell you if we have the same idea, but there are no wrong answers, and I made this ambiguous for that purpose specifically.


End file.
